


Something's Cooking!

by TaleWeaver



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Food Porn, Jon Is Not A Stark, Pirates of the Caribbean References, Tyrion’s narrating his voiceover wearing only his underwear, reality show name-dropping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17137736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: When the tv show 'Come dine with me' comes to Winterfell, the contestants include a wild game hunter raised in the Arctic North, and a ladies' man always conscious of his Iron Island roots.  But the real story might be what's happening between Jon, the Northerner raised in Dorne, and Sansa, daughter of Winterfell Castle.Written for jonsasecretsanta2018.





	Something's Cooking!

**Author's Note:**

> The show 'Come dine with me' belongs to ITV and Shiver Productions. 'Something's cooking' is the name of the Greek version of the show. Whenever possible, I tried to use food or ingredients that have been mentioned in the books: I checked with the 'food' section of awikioficeandfire, and also 'The Inn at the Crossroads' website, run by the people who wrote 'A Feast of Ice and Fire', the official Game of Thrones cookbook. 
> 
> This runs with several head-canons of mine about Modern-day Westeros, including that Beyond the Wall is now called the Arctic North. Wintertown turned into a city, simply called Winterfell (it’s a mix of old, very old, and new buildings. Think Edinburgh), as ‘Winterfell City’ just sounds awkward. The canon Winterfell is now known as Winterfell Castle.
> 
> Written for @jonsasecretsansa2018; Gifted to @hiding-from-the-feds

_**Tyrion Lannister (voiceover):**_  
  
_Welcome to_ 'Come Dine with Me', _where four strangers who fancy themselves as good cooks take turns throwing dinner parties for each other, and try not to poison them.  The contestant who gets the highest score at the end of the two weeks wins a thousand dragons, and gets their name written in our scroll of honour.  Which isn't nearly as prestigious as it sounds, but it might just give you a chance to audition for_ ‘MasterChef’ _without being laughed out of the room._  
  
_This episode, we're going to the heart of the Northern Territory: Winterfell!  Our four contestants this week are three people who've come from someplace else, and one who is as native to Winterfell as you can possibly get.  Our first contestant is Sansa Stark, oldest daughter of the Lord Paramount of Winterfell, but that won't get us into the Castle, worse luck.  Our second contestant is Tormund Giantsbane, who moved here from the Arctic North because he was sick of freezing his bollocks off in the middle of summer.  Our third contestant, Theon Greyjoy, actually grew up in Winterfell, but won't stop talking about being from the noblest family in the Iron Islands, if you can count anyone who lives on a pile of crumbling rocks covered in seaweed as noble.  Our final contestant is Jon Snow, who despite his name and having a bloody direwolf, grew up in Dorne._  
  
_We open with our first Friday dinner, at Sansa Stark's brownstone in the Weirwood district.  As I mentioned before, Sansa is one of **those** Starks, but rough luck for those of you wanting a peek inside Winterfell Castle.  At twenty years old, she's a student at Winterfell University, and plans to work for either the Arts and Culture Department or the Northern Tourism Commission once she graduates, because she thinks it's about time that more people below the Neck besides winter sport fanatics find out how fantastic the North is._  
  
_Her theme is ' Speakeasy', which is odd because the North never had Prohibition. At the time, it was apparently considered just one more example that a lot of idiots lived below the Neck. I rather see their point._  
  
Sansa looked into the camera with her best smile, making sure the candlelight coming from the dining table hit her flatteringly.  Her hair was worn in a chignon, with a rhinestone bandeau around her forehead.  Her dangling earrings matched, but no necklace filled the expanse of milky skin exposed by her low-cut evening dress, made in robin's egg blue satin.  
  
"I picked Speakeasy for my theme, because I've been a little obsessed with the Prohibition period ever since I did a project on it back in high school.  It's true the North never passed the Prohibition laws - it's a bit hard to get people to swear off alcohol in a land where drinking's a major form of recreation, given that it's a major source of keeping warm for a good quarter of the year.  But the North actually provided most of the alcohol to the speakeasies in King's Landing.  Three of the most popular kinds of alcohol during Prohibition - gin, whiskey, and brandy were all made, and in the case of gin, actually invented here in the North, and we refined whiskey to it's status as a proper drink centuries ago.  Only wine and bubbling wine were secretly made in Dorne, the Reach and the Riverlands.  So while the atmosphere of the Speakeasies never made it up here, it was actually something of a boom time for the North's economy, and it really started our fine liquor industry!  
  
"As you can see," Sansa gestured around her, "I've done my best to make my dining room look like a speakeasy.  Mum even let me raid the Castle storerooms for some of the old furniture from that time!  Once this is done, I'm going to try and convince her to let me keep the dining set and the chaise lounge, because they're so gorgeous!  My brother Bran helped me make a playlist with music from the era, and while I am of course cooking everything myself, I talked my sister Arya into playing bartender."  
  
The camera swung over to a long mahogany sideboard, where the light glinted and glittered off a large array of glass and cut crystal liquor bottles, along with a full set of glasses.  Behind it stood a short, very pretty girl with the Stark look, wearing a white dress shirt, scarlet bow tie, matching tailored waistcoat, and a highly disgruntled expression.  
  
"Arya's an amateur mixologist, and really knows her stuff.  She also owed me a favour, and I can't play hostess, chef **and** bartender properly all at once."  
  
"What d'you mean, **talked me into it**?" Arya asked.  "You blackmailed me into this!"  
  
"But blackmail is such an ugly word," Sansa confided to the camera.  "But if Arya isn't polite to my guests," Sansa smiled sweetly, "she knows exactly what I'll be telling Mum and Dad."  
  
The camera was too far away to pick up exactly what Arya muttered, but it sounded an awful lot like, "Can't believe you were recording that."  
  
_Tyrion VO: Sansa's menu for tonight has devilled eggs for starters.  The main is chicken breast ala` rose, with steamed carrots and peas, and cheesy potatoes for sides. Dessert is lemon cakes, which doesn't sound very Prohibition to me!_  
  
_Sansa VO: they're my favourites, and I make them wonderfully.  And you just made sure you're not getting any._  
  
_Tyrion VO: Ah, [bleeped out]!   Oh well, let’s see some highlights from the dinner at Sansa’s Speakeasy._  
  
Several clips recorded during the dinner party are shown, including:  
  
* Jon stopping dead in his tracks, just a couple of steps inside the doorway, with an utterly awestruck look on his face.  
  
* Theon leaning over the bar talking with Arya, with a charming expression.  Arya looks distinctly unimpressed.  
  
* The plates of starters are all picked clean enough to sparkle, and Tormund and Jon looking around for more.  This repeats for the main course.  
  
* Tormund trying to do the Charleston with an Old-Fashioned glass in his hand, and falling over onto the chaise lounge.  
  
* Sansa holding a dessert plate in one hand, and a lemon cake in the other hovering over it.  She's offering it to Jon, who looks rather... **hungry**.  
  
_Tyrion VO: Now that Sansa's guests are on the way home, let's see what they have to say._  
  
Tormund relaxed back into the seat of the town car, and grinned widely at the camera.  "Well, that was a bloody fancy meal!  Still can't believe I had to wear a fookin' suit, but m'wife thought I looked damn good in it." Tormund stroked his beard and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  "Speaking of looking damn good, so did Sansa.  That Jon Snow certainly thought so - did you lot get a shot of his face when he first walked in and saw her?  I thought his jaw was going to hit the ground with his tongue rolling out like a red carpet!"  Tormund threw back his head and laughed long and loud.    
  
"The spread was too fancy for my tastes – for fook’s sake, rose petals with chicken? - and the whole dressing up thing isn't for me.  But when all was said and done, the food tasted damn good, and I can appreciate the effort Sansa went to, to make a good party.  The drinks were fookin' awesome, too!" Tormund held up a small, elegant cardboard box.  "She even gave me a couple of spare lemoncakes for the missus.  Between that and this suit, I'm going to have a bloody good time once I get home."  Tormund waggled his eyebrows in an R-rated sort of way, before adding, "Besides, those of us kissed by fire have to stick together!  I'll give her an eight."  
  
In another car, Theon chewed on his thumbnail and looked nervous.  "Before this, I figured I'd win on atmosphere alone, but I'm going to have to seriously up my game.  The food didn't completely stick with the period, even though I couldn't get a beer because the North didn't produce it back then.  But the setting was great.  Having a separate bartender – was that against the rules?  No?  Well, I have to admit that it really helped everyone relax while Sansa popped out to the kitchen, and only serving locally produced alcohol was a nice touch.  The food tasted really good, and those lemoncakes were... wow.  I'm worried about my chances, but in all honesty I can't give her any less than an eight."  
  
In the third car, Jon looked out the window with a dreamy expression.  After being prompted by the cameraman, he startled and looked into the camera.  "Oh!  Right, the voting.  Well, I was blown away from the second I stepped into the room and saw the hostess."  Jon blushed, and hastily added, "Um, because of the setting.  Prohibition's not exactly my specialty, so I can't tell you how accurate it was, but I certainly felt like I was on the set of 'The Great Garner', anyway.  The food was really good, but I think Sansa underestimated how much all of us would eat, and there should have been more than one appetiser. I don't like lemon flavoured desserts - Dorne's all about blood oranges - but when she talked me into trying one of her lemoncakes..." Jon stared off camera for a few seconds, smiling.    
  
_Tyrion VO: Maybe that's because she offered you the first bite from her hand?  Your face at the time rather looked like you'd rather be eating it off her - oops, can't say that here._  
  
"Um, anyway, while dressing up in costume isn't really my thing, I appreciated that Sansa picked something that would be easy for us blokes to do - wearing a suit isn't a big deal, and I found that I really liked wearing this waistcoat, I think I'll add a few more to my wardrobe.  Would giving her a ten be over the top?"  
  
_Tyrion VO: Probably, but it's pretty obvious you already think **she's** a perfect ten!_  
  
_So Sansa’s score is twenty-six out of thirty, which sets a very high score for the others to beat.  Not to mention that she’ll be scoring with Jon if she plays her cards right… like if she points at him and says, ‘Come here.’_  
  
_Next up is Tormund Giantsbane.  He's requested to hold his party on the Sunday evening, instead of the Saturday, because he's doing game meat and the cousin bringing down the food he hunted himself got lost on the highway from Giant's Fang.  Tormund, age ‘what d’you care about that for?’, was born and raised in the Arctic North, and moved down to the Wild Gift some years ago.  He moved to Winterfell to take up a job with the police last year, and it's rumoured that half the lawbreakers in the city now wear brown pants as a matter of course in case Tormund comes up behind them in a dark alley._  
  
_Tormund's menu is very_ 'Man Vs Wild', _though his theme is supposed to be ‘ Campfire’.  For starters, there’s venison sausages.  Main course is wild boar leg roasted over a campfire, with potatoes in the ashes, and honey and biscuits for dessert. Now let’s take a look at some highlights from Tormund’s Game Meat Campfire._  
  
Several clips recorded during the dinner party are shown, including:  
  
* Theon shaking hands with a lovely brunette woman standing beside Tormund, who is almost as tall as he is.  Theon tries to hide a wince, but after he moves past her he's discreetly shaking out his hand.  
  
* As the woman heads out the door, she stops on the front step to chat to Sansa, the last to arrive.  Judging by the matching smiles, they're getting along quite well.  
  
* Seated on opposite benches of a picnic table, the starry sky above provides a dramatic backdrop to Jon and Sansa's arm-wrestling match.  Theon is cheering on Jon, and Tormund is backing Sansa.  Sansa gives a radiant smile, and Jon abruptly loses.  
  
* Jon surveying the two ice-filled coolers, one full of beer bottles and the other with cider bottles, with a professional sort of eye but a pleased expression.  
  
*  Theon and Jon are sitting on benches around the cast-iron firepit, with Sansa nowhere to be seen.  Tormund is standing, telling a story with wild hand movements to illustrate.  Theon is fascinated, while Jon looks equal parts dubious and squicked.  
  
_Tyrion VO: Well, now I feel the need to do something excessively manly just from watching them eat that meal.  But if I sit down and drink long enough, it’ll pass.  While my minion fetches some Dornish Red, let’s see what Tormund rates from the others._  
  
In her town car, Sansa automatically settled into a pose that was flattering on camera (a legacy of too many Official photoshoots) and bit her lip in thought.  “Well, it was a big change from my dinner!  But that’s not a bad thing, by any means.  I’m glad he warned us in advance that we’d be eating outside, so I knew to wear a coat – eating outside’s no fun if your fingers are freezing.  While the meal definitely fit Tormund’s… robust… personality, I thought it was a very heavy meal.  I’m sure it’s just what you need if you’re going to spend the next day slogging through snow or climbing the Giant’s Fang or something, but I feel right now that if I went for a pre-bedtime swim I’d sink like a rock.  Along those lines, I wished there had been some more sides, maybe some lighter options. The dessert initially came off as a bit simple, but now I think about it, anything more elaborate wouldn’t really have complimented the meal.  But Tormund introduced me to two dishes I’d never tried before, so he gets points for adventure!  I’ll give him a seven.”  
  
In the second town car, Theon sat back and grinned.  “Well, this bloke’s not going to be any competition.  I’m not surprised he used to live up in Wildling country, the meal was right out of the War of the Five Kings!  I’ll give him credit for being generous with the beer, and that cider was good stuff.  I’ll admit that I probably couldn’t roast something that big properly, especially over an open fire.  But Savage Cuisine isn’t my thing.  I’ll give him a five.”  
  
In the last town car, Jon let out a burp, then clapped a hand over his mouth and looked mortified.  “Erm, you can edit that out, right?”  
  
_Tyrion VO: Seven Hells no! How often do you think we get decent gags on this show?_  
  
“Well, I’m not sure venison agrees with me. I’d think it was the boar, but it’s just another kind of pork, and Ghost and I love that.  Anyway, I’m pretty sure that Tormund’s redefined the term ‘hearty meal’.  I don’t think I’ve ever been to a dinner where an arm-wrestling competition was part of the pre-meal entertainment, either.  Tormund’s wife was very nice; though… did you guys record the story he told while Sansa went – um, inside?  The one about the bear?  And what Tormund **did** with the bear?  Please tell me you’re not going to broadcast that on the show – my cousins down in Dorne are going to be watching this, and I’m not sure any of them are old enough to hear that story!”  
  
_Tyrion VO: Actually, I’m fairly sure **you** weren’t old enough to hear that story. Never fear, that section’s only going to be seen on the edits reel at the season wrap party.  For those at home, let’s just say that if we actually screened Tormund telling the bear story, we’d probably get yanked under the Indecency laws.  Though my minion just checked, and Tormund’s wife’s maiden name is Mormont, so he might very well have been using a metaphor.  If he was, it’s quite possible that his wife’s going to kill him for telling that sort of thing to strangers, so he might be better off if he actually did do those things to a bear._  
  
“Anyway… he’s got bloody good taste in beer, and in cider, too!  I feel like I’m going to need an extra trip to the gym next week, but it was good at showing off a kind of food that I’ve never experienced before.  The casual, friendly atmosphere of the meal was nice, too, and I have to say I loved his firepit.  But I really think we should have had some marshmallows to roast, too – I’ve always wanted to try that!  Anyway, I’ll give him a seven.”  
  
_Tyrion VO:  So Wild Man Tormund gets a total of nineteen, leaving him to fall short of Sansa’s high marks.  Which is ironic, considering how the man himself towers excessively over everyone._  
  
_As the fastest way to travel is by montage, let’s just do a cut scene and magically travel to the next Friday night, when Theon Greyjoy will be opening his doors and his kitchen._  
  
_Theon is twenty-four, and describes himself as a man about town.  He’s lived in Winterfell since he was a child, but takes great pride in being one of the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands. Not enough pride to actually go to sea, I notice.  But I can’t say I blame him, there.  In tribute to his seaweed-flavoured roots, Theon’s theme was originally ‘ Nautical’.  However, Sansa’s Speakeasy has inspired him to go bigger or go without the thousand dragons, and he’s upgraded to ‘Pirates’.  First off the gangplank is bacon-wrapped shrimp with cocktail sauce, followed by beer-battered whiskerfish with home-made chips and corn on the cob as sides.  Dessert is black tar rum balls, which means we finally have an answer to the eternal question: why is the rum gone?_  
  
_However, unknown to Theon – but not to me, because we made the contestants fill out a form for this sort of thing, in the interests of no one dying – Tormund is allergic to shellfish. So let’s see some clips from the Good Ship Greyjoy._  
  
Several clips recorded during the dinner party are shown, including:  
  
* A slow pan around Theon's open plan living room/dining space to show off the decor: a full-size Jolly Roger flag hanging from the light fixture, a set of captain's chairs around the old-fashioned dining room table, strings of signal flags and artistically knotted ropes along the walls, and a photo wall that looks like the view of a sailing ship's deck.  
  
* Each of the guests posing in front of the Photo Wall: Tormund’s costume is simply an eye-patch, a plastic sword and cheap tricorn hat.  Jon does better, with widely-cuffed boot covers over his skinny jeans, headscarf, a thick, proper sword-belt which has a beautifully accurate replica scimitar hanging from it, and a poet’s shirt with the string missing, parted halfway down his chest.  Sansa is resplendent in a Tully blue and silver brocade waspie over a grey peasant blouse, a gun-belt with fake flintlock pistols and grey pants tucked into black riding boots, with a Prussian blue frock coat over it all.  Topped with a very nice hat, with an extravagant feather.  
  
* The starters have been passed out: a cocktail glass holds the sauce, sharing the plate with the bacon-wrapped shrimp.  Tormund looks at the plate with a disgusted look on his face.  
  
* Sansa and Jon are chatting animatedly over fish and chips, while Tormund eyes Sansa's hat enviously.  
  
* Theon has stolen Tormund's sword, and is playfully challenging Jon to a duel.  Jon smirks, raises his scimitar, and cuts Tormund's sword in half.  Theon's jaw hits the floor.  Jon casually sheathes his weapon, then turns to talk with Sansa again.  
  
_Tyrion VO:  Well, Theon may very well have scuttled his own ship with his lack of research.  It's only fair to point out that Sansa and Tormund both asked the production team about food allergies. But still, let’s check the score from me hearties, while I drink up. Yo ho!_  
  
Tormund had a stormy look on his face, and arms crossed on his chest as he sat in the town car and talked to the camera.  “What the fookin’ hells was that?  Who throws a dinner party and doesn’t check about allergies?  The bloody idjit even made me dress up for nothing.”  Tormund’s gaze slid to the window, and the camera barely caught him muttering, “And Sansa’s hat was great.  Why couldn’t I have had a hat like that?”  
  
Tormund huffed a sigh and added, “The rum balls were pretty good, but his mains didn’t shiver me timbers any.  I’ll give him a four, and that’s mostly because he let me keep the pirate flag as an apology and served good beer.”  
  
When the camera cut to Sansa, it seemed more occupied with the neckline of her low-cut peasant blouse.  After a few seconds, the focus was back on her face, and the anxious expression she wore on it.  "Oh, dear.  I need to give Theon marks for effort, but only the decor was a real success, I think.  First off, and worst of all – what was with not checking for allergies?  He filled out the form same as the rest of us!  I’m sorry, but that’s a near unforgivable error on a host’s part, especially for such a small number of guests.  To be honest, I see bacon-wrapped shrimp as a waste of perfectly good bacon myself. And maybe it’s just me, but the cocktail sauce was a little too tangy, like one of the ingredients was just a little off.  Speaking of taste, the rum in the rum balls almost drowned the tongue, although all the boys seemed to like it.  Is it a double X chromosome thing, or – at the risk of sounding snobby – do I have a better developed palate for this sort of thing, d’you think?”  
  
_Tyrion VO: Well, as someone who has a excellently developed palate for anything alcoholic, I say either is a possibility.  But black tar rum is one of the most strongly flavoured kinds, so a word to those playing at home – if you try this dish yourself, maybe start with one of the lighter kinds._  
  
Sansa added, “As for the mains, well… the sides were quite plain, but food doesn’t need to be elaborate to be tasty.  It was just, well, rather ordinary.  I’ve had whiskerfish in both plain and beer type batters before, and to be honest, Theon’s tasted like it came out of a pub kitchen that makes it’s money on the booze, if you get my drift. But I loved the chance to dress up as a pirate queen!”  Sansa grinned, “Did you catch the way Tormund looked at my hat all through dinner?  I was half-convinced he was going to try to steal it!  Either that, or Jon’s scimitar.”  Sansa blushed, “Jon really did look rather dashing in that poet’s shirt.  I’m glad he went with it.”  Sansa looked down at her lap, then startled.  “Oh! The score.  Well, I have to take it back to zero for hosting, so I’ll give him two for the food – the chips were just how I like them, and the corn was nicely done – three for atmosphere, because the decorations were definitely party-worthy, and I’ll throw in another point for giving me a chance to wear this outfit. So that’s six.”  
  
In the third car, Jon had the scimitar laid carefully across his lap, and in close-up it was easy to detect that it was made of actual steel.  “Yes, this is a replica, but it’s real.  You don’t get fake weapons in my family!  This was an eighteenth birthday present from my uncle Doran.  I’ll give Theon a point for giving me the chance to wear it in real life outside a convention or fair.  But…” Jon shook his head.  “I don’t need to see Tormund’s bit to know he’s grumbling about it, and I’d bet a couple of stags that Sansa has already mentioned it, but the shrimp thing.  I found it delicious, personally, but shellfish is one of the most common food allergies there is, and since we had to fill out the forms… I was wondering for a minute there if Theon was trying to provoke a fight for some on-air drama.  I really don’t understand why he came on this show, instead of one of those so-called dating reality shows were everyone constantly wears a swimsuit and plays at partner-swapping at a Summer Isles resort, and acting like they’re on a soap opera.”  
  
_Tyrion VO: (thoughtfully) Jon has a point, there.  I think I’ll get my minion to pass on Theon’s application to the_ 'Love Island' _production crew.  Mind you, Jonny boy, you’re not much better with that shirt!_  
  
Someone must have said something similar to Jon, because he fiddled with the gaping neckline of his shirt.  “Oh, the shirt?  Yeah, I mentioned at Tormund’s party last week that I was going to have trouble with the pirate thing, and Sansa offered to take me to her favourite vintage clothing store.  Didn’t she look gorgeous?”  
  
_Tyrion VO: (laughing) I rather think she thought the same about you.  Why didn’t you just wear a shirt ripped open down to the waist and be done with it?  Every time you leaned forward and your shirt fell open, Sansa kept trying to look down it to peek at your abs!  You do realise that you’re supposed to wear that shirt with a string tying it closed, don’t you?_  
  
“As for the score… well, I’ll give him a couple of points for the effort he went to in decorating, and I liked the starters and dessert, but the mains was really lacklustre.  I’ll give him five, I guess.”  
  
_Tyrion VO:  So Theon the Pirate gets a grand total of fifteen points, which sends his hopes of winning the dragons sinking down to the depths._  
  
_For our final round, and the reveal of who wins in Winterfell, we adjourn to a cottage right next to Wolfswood Central Park.  Jon Snow is twenty-three years old, and despite being half-Northman didn’t set foot in Winterfell until he moved here for University.  He works at the Winterfell Museum as a rather young historian and antiquarian, specialising in weapons, which apparently that uncle that gave him the scimitar can be blamed for.  He also somehow managed to acquire a direwolf of all things for a pet, but never fear, fellow diners, Jon’s promised he doesn’t eat people.  Jon’s kept his theme simple, ‘ A Dinner in Dorne’, saying that he’d rather let his food do the talking for him.  Given how rarely he speaks to anyone but the lovely Sansa, perhaps that’s a good thing! _  
  
_Jon’s gone with a banquet-style serving, which is common in Dorne. The centrepiece is lamb on skewers with honey, lemon, and dragon peppers.  Surrounding it are plates of green peppers stuffed with cheese and onion, stuffed grapeleaves, and flatbread accompanied by white cheese and olives.  There’s plenty of Dornish Red to drink, both strongwine and sweetwine varieties.  As for dessert, Jon’s gone with home-made sorbet, both blood-orange and lemon varieties.  Dorne is famous for it’s blood oranges, but I could have sworn he said last week that he didn’t like lemon-flavoured desserts.  I wonder who **that** might be for?_  
  
Several clips recorded during the dinner party are shown, including:  
  
* A long shot of Jon's courtyard, sheltered by a verandah with transparent weather blinds.  It's decorated with strings of Dornish festival lanterns strung from the verandah rafters, and has a daybed against one wall, an egg-shaped hammock chair, and several Dornish couches surrounding a rustic coffee table.  Against another wall is his matching banquet table, an array of dishes running almost the length of the table.  One end has a dozen wine glasses, and a group of a dozen wine bottles, all with either yellow or pale blue labels, which all bear the same logo: the image of a sun-in-splendour with the silhouette of a howling wolf in the centre.  
  
* Jon greeting his guests, who all show up at once.  By his side is a white-furred, red-eyed direwolf, whose head is level with his ribs.  Sansa takes one look and dissolves into gooey-eyed adoration.  Ghost seems to feel the same, leaving Jon's side instantly for hers.  
  
* Theon with two wine glasses in front of him on the coffee table as he works on his meal.  Each wine glass has a different kind of bottle next to it.  
  
* Sansa feeding Ghost tidbits from her plate, as he sits on the ground by her couch.  
  
* Tormund standing in the courtyard, singing lustily, a wine bottle in each hand. Ghost buries his head under a cushion on Sansa's couch.  
  
_Tyrion VO:  Now, for the final scoring.  To recap, Speakeasy Sansa currently leads with twenty-six, Campfire Tormund is in second with nineteen, and Pirate Theon trails behind at fifteen._

The courtyard had been cleared of all dishes, and Tormund sprawled on one couch in solitary splendour.  In one hand, he held a large wineglass that had been filled up much higher than a regular serving.

  
“Never been the wino type before, but this stuff’s bloody good!  Just as well we’ve all got a car taking us home, because I’m not safe to drive.  Telling you right now, I’m not leaving ‘til I get contact details off Snow so I can get some of my own.  Speaking of… food was good, even with those stupid leaf things.  Wine I’ve already talked about.  Even if he did have us eating outside like I did, it was definitely a different thing from mine, and at least I didn’t have to dress up for it.  That’s a right proper direwolf he’s got, too,” Tormund nodded approvingly.  “I’ll give him an eight.  I was going to give him a seven, but this wine’s worth it.”

The camera cut to Theon, who was sitting on the hammock chair strung from the verandah rafter.  “This thing’s nice and spinny, y’know?  Oops, are we recording?  Yeah, maybe I should have taken it a bit easier on the strongwine.  Bloody good drop, that, my ancestors would have gone raiding in Dorne to get their hands on it.  The food?  I don’t like spicy stuff, and the flatbread kept flopping around.  And I got a brain freeze from the sorbet.  Bet he only made it to get into Sansa’s pants.  Hmm… I’ll give him a five.”

When the camera cut to Sansa, she was sitting on the daybed; all the better for Ghost to sprawl next to her, with his head in her lap while she stroked his ears.  “Who’s a big, lovely direwolf?  That’s **you**!”  Sansa giggled.

Ghost looked up at her adoringly and panted happily.

_Tyrion VO:  Think that maybe Jon should have had more water on the table.  Or they’re just all lightweights except Tormund.  Though I’m not sure whether Sansa’s drunker on sweetwine or puppy love._

“Well, I’ll give him five points alone for Ghost,” Sansa cooed to the direwolf.  “As for the food, the lamb was yummy, and so was the sweetwine!  I’ll give Jon a nine, and not just because he’s hotter than dragon peppers!”

_Tyrion VO:  Jon formerly of Dorne scores a total of twenty-two, moving him to second place.  Not quite enough to steal the thousand dragons._  
_So, to the surprise of no one on the production crew, Sansa wins!  Whether or not Jon’s going to score in a different fashion is, unfortunately, out of our hands._

AFTER THE CREDITS ROLL

An hour after the crew had packed up and left, a taxi pulled up in front of Jon’s cottage, and regurgitated a tall, slender figure carrying a large tote bag over their shoulder, who marched up to the front door and rang the doorbell vigorously.

Jon headed to the front door, to find Ghost already sitting by it, panting happily.  He was only a little surprised to find Sansa on the other side.

As she strolled into the house, Jon asked, "I'm always happy to see you, Sansa, but why are you here?  Did you leave something behind?"

Sansa finished greeting Ghost, and straightened up to face him with a huge smile.  "Not exactly.  I just thought that I should go home, have several glasses of water to sober up, and grab a change of clothes and my toiletry bag while I waited for the crew to leave.  I mean, since the show's over, I figured we were finished with the supervised foreplay and we could have sex now."

Jon's whole body froze, except for his eyes that blinked dazedly.

Sansa's face fell, and she asked, "Um, I wasn't imagining things, was I?"

"No!" Jon exclaimed.  "I took one look at you and... well, it was like the world shifted.  I just thought you'd want me to take you on a few dates first."

"That is my usual procedure," Sansa admitted, as she hung her tote on the coat rack.  "It's just... well, ever since the world shifted for me, I've been really, um, thirsty.  And I don't mean for that fantastic wine."

Jon's answering grin had a decidedly wolfish cast to it.  "So it's safe to admit that I spent all those dinners fighting to urge to bend you over the table?"

"Only if you do something about it now," Sansa told him, as she slid her arms around his neck.

Jon bent just enough to pick her up, bridal-style, and Sansa gasped in delight.  As Jon headed for the stairs, she said, "No man's ever picked me up and carried me off, before."  She nuzzled into his neck and breathed, "I really like it."

"I hope you really like everything I'm about to do to you."

"I'm sure I will."

_And she did.  She really, **really** did._

**Author's Note:**

> I called the modern North ‘the Northern Territory’ just to be funny. The Northern Territory of Australia is hot, windy, and mostly desert. I’m glad I live in South Australia, personally, but NT is what you get when someone from SA goes north and keeps going until you run out of state – and then what you get when you keep going north until you hit the Arafura Sea or Gulf of Carpenteria.
> 
> Yes, Sansa’s themed dinner was inspired by my previous Jonsa fic set in Prohibition, and she is wearing the same dress. Your point? Devilled eggs were invented during the Roaring Twenties, and were one of the most popular dishes during that era. The chicken ala` rose was taken from a 1924 menu from the Waldorf-Astoria hotel I found online. The stuff about gin being invented in the North, and the North’s liquor industry, I just made up because it sounded cool. (Bubbling wine is of course champagne, but Westeros has no Champagne region to name it after!) And I couldn’t believe that the North would take Prohibition any more seriously than Russia would take a ban on vodka. The Great Garner is of course a take-off on The Great Gatsby; according to the wiki, Garner is a Westerlands noble house that looks to be a shout-out to Alan Garner and his classic fantasy novel The Owl Service.
> 
> ‘Giant’s Fang’ is my name for the canon Tormund’s imaginary post-series holdfast, which is up against the Northern Mountains, and stretches to the Long Lake. He was offered part of the New Gift, but he wanted a mountain to look at and be part of his holding; nowadays the mountain itself is called Giant’s Fang as well. It took Jon, Sansa **and** Davos to talk him out of calling it Giant’s Cock.
> 
> I looked up wild game dinner parties for Tormund’s menu; boar and venison are both mentioned in the books, of course.
> 
> For those who haven’t guessed yet, Tyrion’s ‘minion’ is Podrick Payne the production assistant. Bronn occasionally drops by to share whatever Tyrion’s drinking in the sound booth and snark at his underwear choices. (You **did** read the tag at the beginning, right?) 
> 
> According to the wiki’s food section, whiskerfish is a very large river fish from Dorne; but the closest the real world gets to it is apparently catfish. I found several beer-battered catfish recipes, and it sounded very Theon.
> 
> Jon being from Dorne: in case anyone’s confused by Jon talking about his ‘cousins in Dorne’, he means the Sand Snakes. Here, Lyanna was born Snow instead of Stark; just after she found out she was pregnant, Elia discovered her husband’s affair and came to scope out the competition. However, it didn’t take long for Lyanna and Elia to discover they liked each other much more than either of them liked Rhaegar. Elia ditched Rhaegar and took her children **and** Lyanna with her back to Dorne, so Jon was born at Sunspear, rather than the Tower of (very little) Joy. Doran sighed a lot and shrugged, and Oberyn thought the whole thing was both a lovely story and hysterically funny, and so did Ellaria once they met.
> 
> Don’t ask me how Jon ended up with Ghost. Ghost just wandered into Jon’s life during his first two months of University and refused to stop sleeping on the daybed in the courtyard. All the Sand Snakes are envious of his badass pet. Jon is wise enough to know he is actually Ghost’s pet.
> 
> I was originally going to do a ‘fire and ice’ theme for Jon, with spicy curry and cold dessert, but I changed everything except the dessert after looking through the Dorne section of The Inn at the Crossroads website – all his dishes (except the sorbet) have recipes there. BTW, that wine Jon was serving at dinner came from the Wolf in Splendour winery that his two mums started on a whim, and are doing rather well with, thank you very much!


End file.
